The Constant Gardners
by SquintSquad17
Summary: Will's already more than halfway back to his apartment when he gets the call from Amy. A TGW/TWW, featuring Will and Amy as cousins.


**A/N**: This was written for The Good Wife Summer Comment Fixathon over on LJ, for lowriseflare's prompt of: _The Good Wife/The West Wing,_ Will and Amy Gardner, cousins and drinking buddies. Anyway. I don't own The Good Wife, and this is set in a vague time after _Unplugged_.

-x-

Will's already more than halfway back to his apartment when he gets the call from Amy. She's in town, she says, but only for the night, and does he want to meet her at that shitty downtown bar he dragged her to the last time she was forced to come to Chicago?

He pauses for a second before answering. Work was exhausting, a long case with a last minute witness followed by a last minute save by Alicia, and all Will really wants to do is go home and watch Sports Center until he falls asleep. But he hasn't seen Amy in pretty close to forever, and she always was his favorite cousin (once she grew out of that whole torturing phase and stopped calling him Wee Willie Winkie, anyway), so he says yes and turns his car around.

When he finally gets there, he picks Amy out right away. She's at the bar, drumming her fingers on the counter, blatantly ignoring the guy sitting next to her. She looks a little tired, more worn down than he remembers, but mostly she looks exactly the same.

The place is pretty crowded, but there's a space on her other side, so he crosses the room and slides onto the free stool. "This seat taken?"

"Hey, cuz," Amy says, grinning. "It's been a while."

"Yeah, no kidding." It's been more than a while, with their busy schedules and busy lives and neither of them being the type to volunteer personal information, but whatever. He raises a hand to flag down the bartender and asks for a scotch before turning back to Amy. They talk for a bit about their relatives, mainly about the most recent scandal with Great Aunt Hettie and the pool boy. Once they're through the Gardner Family Grapevine, though, he finally remembers to ask, "So what're you doing here, anyway?"

"Drinking." She lifts her half-empty glass with a wry grin.

"I meant in Chicago."

"_Obviously._" A beat. "There was a big conference this afternoon. My boss told me—and I'm paraphrasing, but only loosely—that if I didn't get my ass up here, I would find myself very much unemployed."

Will laughs. "Fair enough."

"What about you? How's life as a hot-shot lawyer?"

The bartender appears with his drink, and Will takes a sip before answering. "Good," he says, and he means it. Mostly. "It's good. Things at the office have been crazy, but we finally hired a new associate."

"Ah, new blood," Amy replies, nodding. "Have they managed to screw everything up yet?"

"No, it's been all right. Alicia's good at what she does."

Amy nods. "Lucky you, the last time we—" She stops suddenly, a shrewd look flashing across her face. "Wait, you said Alicia?"

"Hmm," Will says noncommittally. He pointedly avoids her eyes and takes a too-large sip of scotch.

"_Wait._ Wait, wait, wait." She's grinning evilly, and he suddenly feels ten again, tied to a tree because the other cousins—at Amy's recommendation—decided he had to be the damsel in distress. Again. (His growth spurt didn't hit until ninth grade.)

He drains his drink. "Don't start. Please."

"Tell me this isn't Georgetown Alicia? Love of your Law School Life Alicia?"

Will opens his mouth either to confirm or deny—he's not sure which would be less damning—but Amy keeps going before he can form a single sound.

"It totally is, isn't it? You've managed to track down your little crush and fall for her all over again. You're so predictable, Will."

"It's not—I'm not talking about this." He waves a hand like he's trying clear the air. "What about you? Did you start dating that one guy again—" He racks his brain for the name. "Josh," he says finally. "Josh Lyman, right?"

She shakes her head. "Sadly, he's a married man now. And besides, not all of us insist on carrying torches for old flames." She's laughing, but it sounds a little brittle. He tries not to notice. "I'm a free woman, beholden to no one."

"Except your boss."

"Except my boss," she agrees. "But since he's the President of the United States, I don't mind so much."

It's Will's turn to laugh. "Understandable."

Amy nods, then launches into telling him about what she's working on, and about the horrible people she's being forced to suck up to on this trip. It's nice, Will thinks, talking to someone who understands the politics of the job. Nice to talk to someone who's not expecting something from him.

The rest of the night passes quickly, the conversation jumping around from topic to topic. And then Amy says she has to go, has to stop drinking, or else she'll still be drunk when she flies back to D.C. in the morning. So they say goodnight, both promise to email, if not call, and wish each other luck.

Will's out the door and walking the other way when he hears Amy call his name.

"Yeah?" he says, spinning back around.

She's smirking at him, which he takes to be a bad sign. "Don't screw it up this time, okay?"

"Screw what up?"

"Your undying love for Alicia. Don't think I don't remember that Christmas after she started dating that Florrick guy when you—"

"Goodnight, Amy," he cuts in. He turns back around, her laughter following him down the street.


End file.
